


Ask and You Shall Receive

by starvingsnout



Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor (UK) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Fetus Direction, M/M, Oral Sex, The X Factor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starvingsnout/pseuds/starvingsnout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry takes Zayn's virginity in the X Factor House. Kind of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask and You Shall Receive

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if the characterization is shit, idk what the hell these weird frumpy children were during X Factor :/ Also, the timeline is probably not a 100 percent correct, I couldn't be arsed to check every date.

                                                                               

Zayn doesn't pay that much attention to Harry at first, if he's honest. Harry's a cool chap, really, no complaints apart from the constant nudity, but they don't have much in common beyond the whole X Factor thing and never end up hanging out just the two of them. It's quiet, awkward Liam that Zayn first hits it off with and then Louis, after they're done butting heads over every little things and Zayn gets used to random bursts of screeching. Niall's great, too; of that rare super laid-back type in whose company you can be totally quiet but comfortable even without knowing each other well.

 

 

It doesn't stop Harry from trying to bond with him, though, initially. He always makes sure to ask Zayn's opinion on everything, very courteously, never fails to sling an arm around his shoulders when stood next to each other, sleeps in the same bed with him when he feels like it. Zayn appreciates it, truly he does, but somehow he and Harry are just not clicking and he doesn't see the point of forcing it. It's not like everyone in the band have to be best mates with each other. And it's not like he and Harry are on bad terms, exactly. So, why fuss about it?

 

 

***

 

The first time Zayn finally does have a proper one on one with Harry is after the second live show. It's totally random. They're on a late night Tesco run, testing the patience of their minders (supposedly there just for the underaged but no one is fooled) by barrelling in different directions whenever Louis gives them a signal. After a while Zayn gets tired of running and sneaks outside for a fag only to run into Harry, leaning against the wall with a shaky arm.

 

"I guess it wasn't just nerves earlier. I might actually be sick." Harry attempts a weak smile and wobbles off the wall to sink down on the kerb instead.

 

Zayn hesitates. He could keep his distance with the excuse of lighting up - tobacco smoke makes Harry cough - but the sight of Harry's pale, sullen face is curiously appealing. Approachable. Zayn felt it earlier too, the strange attraction of it, at rehearsals when the camera was being shoved in Harry's face for dramatic close-ups. He resisted it then, half suspecting Harry might have been amping it up or even faking it for the benefit of the show (Harry's a bit of a reality show junkie and always going on about the importance of providing the X Factor crew something to work with).

 

"You need something?" he eventually asks, shuffling closer to hover over Harry's slumped form.

 

"No. I just need to sit down for a minute."

 

"Okay." Zayn kneels on the pavement beside him and places a tentative hand across his back. It's a brave move on his part, possible too forward, and the smile Harry gives him is a little funny, like he doesn't know how to react. Zayn persists, though, rubs his hand up and down on the thick cotton of Harry's hoody, and starts talking about the first thing that comes to his head i.e. which song Simon might choose for Guilty Pleasures week. Harry warms up to it quickly and they bounce ideas off each other in an amiably mellow pace until noisy laughter suddenly erupts into the street in the form of Louis and Niall. The duo are wheezing with laughter and hold onto each other support as they babble incoherently about something that Liam did.

 

"Lads! Where've you been?" Louis hollers when he spots them. "You missed Liam's noble sacrifice of crashing into a tower of cereal boxes! Saved me and Niall's arses, that brave boy!"

 

Harry heaves himself up and cheers, throwing his arms in the air like he's doing a stadium wave. Zayn follows more slowly, fixing his trousers that have inched down to his knees, but is thrown off by a hand slamming into his arse and squeezing it like juice might come out. Harry pushes past him a second later, giving him a cheeky grin as he saunters off towards Louis. Zayn stares after him, shaking his head incredulously as he rubs his stinging bum.

 

He comes to the conclusion it must have been Harry's personal way of magicking him into a friend because from that night onwards there is no more awkwardness between them and Zayn feels like he calling him a mate every bit as much as the rest of the lads.

 

***

 

Little chats with Harry grow into a habit. Their conversations are never deep, mostly they speculate on everyone's chances in the competition (something they all do but with Harry Zayn finds himself being a little more honest, or maybe just more realistic), play endless variations of fuck marry kill, and rate the X Factor dancers' bodies. Harry's done more with girls than anyone of his age Zayn knows and it's what keeps making him gravitate towards Harry out of all the lads whenever he wants to talk about anything sex-related. Louis' got a girlfriend but he's not willing to share any deets, Niall is about as experienced as Zayn is, and Liam's starchy, reluctantly fascinated face always keeps them discussing all the really good stuff. With just Harry and Zayn there's never any holds barred, no topic too awkward or taboo for them to dissect and debate.

 

Or so Zayn thought. On one of their talks he becomes privy to facts about Harry's sexual history he didn't quite see coming. They're in a hallway, lining up for costume consultation, just the two of them left. Talking about sex, as usual. Diva Fever are rehearsing I Will Survive in the background and it leads them to the topic of gay sex. Zayn promptly huffs he doesn't get it and can't imagine doing it with a guy. Harry gives him a calculating look and says, calmly, "I've done stuff with guys, actually. A bit of everything."

 

Zayn is speechless for a few seconds, tries to gauge if Harry's taking the piss. "Really?"

 

"Is it a problem?" Harry doesn't phrase it like a challenge, but like he wants to know.

 

"No, of course not," Zayn says, a little too quickly because an awkward silence follows. He fervently wishes Louis was there to say something over the top to break the tension. "Have you, like, gone all the way with guys too?" he eventually asks, carefully, realising he can't drop the subject without looking like it bothers him.

 

"Yeah," Harry admits easily, like it's no big deal. Maybe it isn't where Harry comes from.

 

"What's it like then?" Harry's nonchalance is infectious and Zayn doesn't bother hiding his curiosity anymore. 

 

Harry thinks about it with squinted eyes, like he can't quite remember, and starts in his typically sluggish, meandering pace, "I'd say it's maybe a little better than with girls. There's less pressure on you to make it good and not so much worrying about being, like, insensitive and stuff. Physically it's not that different. It's as you can imagine, really. Girls are softer. You know. _Boobs_." He waggles his eyebrows.

 

"Yeah, but, like, what's the action like? You know, the-" Zayn makes a crude hand gesture, a little urgently because it's only so long just the two of them there.

 

Harry smiles with the benign self-assurance of someone secure in their skin and general grasp of life. "You know how it's like tight and mushy in a pussy?" His eyes grow a little wider in delight as he laughs at the rhyme. "That was unintentional, I swear! Anyway, it's a bit tighter in the- the back. Other than that it's not so different. Unless you're the one taking it, of course."

 

"Have you ever- done _that_?" Zayn asks, taking a covert look around the hallway. He's never heard anyone talking about gay stuff so casually. In his school there's a guy rumoured to suck off anyone who asks and the only reason he isn't getting his head flushed down the toilet between classes is because his dad's been to jail for manslaughter.

 

"Once. It wasn't great but it wasn't bad either," Harry muses idly. "I think it's, like, one of those things you get better at over time, once your bum gets used to it. "

 

"Oh."

 

Zayn changes the topic after that. He's not so much uncomfortable - well, maybe a little - as he is starting to get anxious. _Jealous_. Not of the cock-and-bum stuff but of Harry's general worldliness. Zayn's under the impression that Holmes Chapel is basically bumfuck nowhere but that hasn't stopped Harry from lothario'ing his way through high school, probably crossing off a dozen pages of Kama Sutra per semester. Zayn can't help but feel inadequate.

 

***

 

Before the third live show they all go shopping together and get mobbed. Like, legit mobbed. It's utterly surreal and Zayn can't stop snapping his head around every time someone calls his name. His attention is particularly arrested by the sheer number of  _girls_  flocking around them, pulling at their clothes like they're manifestations of a deity and touching them will bring them good luck. It's hard picking out individual faces out of the throbbing mob but Zayn reckons, rather generously, that he _would_ , with every single one of them. They're more than willing, what more can you ask?

 

It happens again on a smaller scale a few days later when they arrive for rehearsals at the studio, but this time Zayn skips out on it with Niall and sneaks in through the back. It's somehow more intimidating when there's less of them. He might actually have to talk to them. Liam and Harry confirm it as they finally make their entrance through the front, having pushed their way through the crowd, flaunting all the phone numbers shoved down their shirt collars. Zayn even spots a faint print of red lips on the side of Harry's neck.

 

It's honestly pretty terrifying.

 

***

 

Zayn eats breakfast with Louis the next day, the two of them the only ones still in the house. He's barely slept the night before, both because he's nervous about his solo in their upcoming performance and because of girls. Sex. And fucking Harry, who's had plenty of both. He opens one of the kitchen windows despite the freezing weather and lights up, ready to face the consequences should someone smell it later.

 

"Did you know Harry's done it with guys?" It's a bit of a non sequitur considering their last topic of discussion was whether or not Wagner was in fact an elaborate act planted into the show by the producers. Zayn just can't stop thinking about all the goddamn lecherous adventures Harry's got up to during his young life. It's driving him nuts. He needs outside perspective. "Like, gone full anal." He almost whispers the last word.

 

Louis actually seems a little taken aback, blinking his bleary eyes in the bright kitchen. "Well isn't this just the loveliest breakfast talk we're having. From Wagner to bum sex."

 

Zayn gives up on trying to down his plate of porridge and rests his chin on the table. "I can't believe he's done all that shit. Harry, I mean. Like, he's even been with two girls at once, or so he says."

 

Louis laughs, simultaneously loud and fond. "That's our boy Harold." He whips his hair to the side from where it immediately starts slithering back to where it belongs, the opposite side of his head. Zayn has no idea why Louis insists on twisting it the way he does but he's not about to question it.

 

Speaking of things Zayn would like to question but doesn't have the guts to. Recently he's started noticing how touchy Louis and Harry are with each other and- well. If the two of them are shagging or anything of the sort, he wants to know. Harry's already admitted to having done it all with guys, so. Maybe Louis' one of those guys. Zayn's almost 95 percent sure Louis would have told him if that was the case, but it's hard not to read into things, especially with the two of them talking moving in together once X Factor is over. It could be a thing. "Are you and Harry... you know. Are you, like, doing it? I'm not judging, just wondering."

 

Louis looks genuinely shocked. "What, no way, man. Can't believe you're honestly asking that."

 

"It's not my fault you're always pawing each other. I'm not the only one who's wondered, you know," Zayn backtracks quickly, some of the tension in his gut loosening at the confirmation he's not being left in the dark about something so big. 

 

"Ha. Well." Louis looks the tiniest bit uncomfortable for a moment but shrugs it off. "Let them think what they want. Funny thing is, I don't think Harry's even... you know, gay or something. He just likes getting laid."

 

"Who doesn't," Zayn says glumly and finishes his fag.

 

***

 

It's the evening before the Halloween special, and everyone in the house is jittery, as always before live shows. Most of them are gathered about in the beanbag room, burning off nervous energy by horsing about, eating snacks, or revising their lyrics. Only Aiden's locked himself in the practice room for some private last-minute rehearsals, muted notes of Thriller being played on the jukebox just discernible under the ruckus.

 

Zayn's sitting with Liam on his left and Geneva on his right, leaning against the side of his leg on the floor. She's in the middle of an epic Mario Kart race with Niall and only glances at Zayn occasionally but he feels her presence keenly anyway. In fact, it's all he thinks about. She's a great girl - funny and loud and confident - but best of all, _into_ him. Zayn can scarcely believe it true, but she's told him as much and they've already kissed a few times so he supposes it must be true.

 

He scans the room, a little bored despite his acute awareness of Geneva. His eyes land on Harry, reclining on two bags at once behind the backs of Katie, Mary, and Cher. The girls are pouring through a copy of the day's Sun, with Harry gazing down at it as well over Katie's shoulder. He looks like one of those cats that sit on the backs of arm chairs when their owners are reading the paper. A Cheshire cat. He even smirks like one when he notices Zayn watching him. Zayn doesn't see what's so funny but he's willing to be entertained so he lifts a questioning brow.

 

Harry licks his lips, slowly, and without taking his eyes off Zayn rests his hand on Katie's shoulder. Then he starts inching the hand down her blouse, further and further, until it's almost all the way in. Zayn holds his breath, flits his eyes around to see if anyone else is watching, and then back at Harry, who appears to be... snapping her bra strap. For a fraction of a second Zayn he thinks he's about to witness Harry getting his arse handed to him but Katie only laughs lightly and slaps his hand away. It's mystifying, how much he gets away with. 

 

Harry appears quite smug with it too as he beams at Zayn. It takes a moment for Zayn to realise the subtle little nods he's making are not accidental - he's pointing to Geneva. Is he saying that-? Zayn lets his own expression fall carefully blank and pointedly turns away, to gaze at the screen where Luigi and Toad are currently speeding off on the piano keys of Music Park. His heart is hammering in his chest. Harry must have figured it out, that's what this is. He must have figured out that not only is Zayn a virgin but he hasn't as much as fondled a single breast. It's not like Zayn has ever had anything exciting to share on one of their little talks so why wouldn't he have. Harry would probably not rip on him about it - _isn't_ ripping on him - but just the fact that he knows and is trying to help Zayn in achieving those experiences is a bit humiliating. Also useless, because no fucking way would Geneva ever let him fiddle with her bra in public.

 

As if on cue, Geneva nudges his side. "Zayn, do you want to join in? We need more players."

 

Zayn clears his throat and slides down on the floor next to her. "Yeah, alright. Might as well." He doesn't need Harry's help with girls. 

 

***

 

It's horrid but Zayn's first thought when Belle Amie get voted off is that he's never ever getting laid now before his eighteenth birthday. He'll genuinely miss Geneva, though, and later that night he almost cries when they hug goodbyes. Geneva laughs at him and pinches his cheek but he can tell she's getting emotional too. Maybe it's just because of being booted off the competition, though.

 

"Text me, yeah?" are her last words to him. And he intends to, he really does. It's just that it's so hard to focus on anything outside the house. Even answering his mum's calls takes an effort sometimes. Geneva says she'll back to London in a few weeks and they'll see each other soon enough, but it feels like a forever away. And they only ever got to kissing with tongues.

 

***

 

It's a Wednesday and they're lying side by side on Harry's bunk in front of Harry's laptop, Harry and Zayn, shoulders brushing as they quietly browse Twitter for comments on last night's performance. Zayn can't remember the last time either of them said a word and the silence between seems... loaded. If Louis was there, he'd probably start crowing about sexual tension (Louis doesn't take well to silence) and force their heads together. Louis isn't there, though, and Zayn isn't sure why. He's almost certain they were supposed to watch a movie, the three of them, while Liam went on a date with the pretty dancer he's been crushing on for ages and Niall joined the poker game in the boys' room.

 

"Oh, I love this one," Harry laughs suddenly, startling Zayn. He puts on a high-pitched voice and simpers in a god-awful Bristol accent, "Zayn I would so put my finger in your bum if you asked me to, please follow me!"

 

Zayn leans towards the screen to inspect the girl's profile pic, your typical duckface selfie. She's cute but in that pre-puberty kind of way that makes Zayn think of his sisters. "Yeah, I'll pass," he mutters.

 

"You don't want a finger in your bum?" Harry asks in his normal voice. It's uncanny how deep it is, given the way he looks. "It can feel really good, you know," he continues when Zayn only gives him an unamused sideways glance. He's so sick of hearing about all the completed rows in Harry's sexual bingo card.

 

"I'm sure you would know all about that."

 

"I know a little bit. I could show you if you want?"

 

Zayn stares intently at the computer screen, sure he heard it wrong. "What?"

 

"I could show you. I've done stuff with guys before, remember? It's not a big deal."

 

Zayn wants to say that it's a pretty big fucking deal but Harry looks so self-assured, so all-knowing and... conspiratory. Like he just knows better, has the secret stepping stones of life mapped out and is just hopping along, surefooted as a mountain goat on a cliff-side. 

 

"I've only fingered someone once in the bum, a girl. She did it to me back and I really liked it. They say it's typically a lot better for guys," Harry continues casually, tapping on the keyboard to some song in his head. 

 

"It's so gay, though," Zayn mutters, half-seduced by Harry's nonchalance. Maybe it's not such a big deal? He's wanked to porn with Danny and Ant before, maybe this isn't such a giant leap from that. 

 

"Yeah, I guess it is," Harry says matter-of-factly. "So what?"

 

Zayn can't think of anything to say to that.

 

***

 

They negotiate the details over the course of American anthems week via texts, on bathroom breaks, in and out of rehearsals and recordings, even with lewd gestures whenever their eyes happen to meet in a room and no one's watching. The end result is as follows: Harry will finger Zayn and in return Zayn will suck him off. In all honesty, Zayn would have rather liked a blowjob as well, but Harry declares he's sick of giving them and wants to try something else for a change. He swears up and down that it's every bit as good as getting one's cock sucked _and_ something that most girls don't want to do to guys, which makes this an opportunity Zayn 'won't want to miss'. Whatever, really. Zayn is down with anything that'll ease the pressure cooker in his pants. As Harry puts it, a hand is a hand is a hand. (It's also maybe a little silly of him, but the possibility that Harry might know who Gertrude Stein is massively boosts his appeal as a sex partner.)

 

***

 

They end up doing it after the Harry Potter premiere, probably in part because Emma Watson is so ridiculously fit they need to take it out on something but mostly simply because the opportunity presents itself. Basically, everyone being wheeled off to the official after party turns into a bit of a mess and at the party itself the lads are left to their own devices. Naturally, they all gravitate towards the open bar and Louis gets them all fancy drinks. Harry is the first to start feeling sick and Zayn soon follows. They try to keep up with the others, who're faring a whole lot better (Niall seems to be magically protected by his Irish genes from the worst of it, Liam can't drink because of his kidney, and Louis appears to have built up a decent alcohol tolerance during his eleven months of legal drinking age), but soon enough a minder catches them at it and frog marches them to a car. They spend the twenty-minute drive back to the house slumped over each other, bemoaning their fate.

 

However, once they're done puking their guts into the toilet and are sat in the beanbags playing Monster Hunter on the Wii, sobering up with some strawberry smoothies of Harry's making, it occurs to them how handily fortune has favoured them. They take one look at each other and run to the bathrooms for swift showers - semi-separately, with Harry waiting impatiently on the other side of the shower curtain for Zayn to finish washing up - and then shut themselves in their hopeless mess of a bedroom. Harry climbs up on his bed and settles against a headboard, back to the door. There's no lock on it and they have no choice but to risk someone walking in on them in the middle of things, but it can't be helped.

 

Zayn pulls himself up as well and sits in front of Harry, anxiously excited, but flinches back instinctively when Harry undoes the belt of his bath robe and flings the garment open. It's not like he hasn't seen Harry naked plenty already during the brief time they've known each other. He's just a tad horrified that Harry's prick is _already hard_. It's also vaguely purple and swollen-looking, not unlike an... uncooked Oxford sausage, actually. Altogether, it's far from the prettiest cock Zayn's seen (are there even any?) but he stresses about how different it is compared to his own anyway until he realises a moment later it's because Harry's uncut.

 

"Don't look so worried, I did wash it," Harry says, mock offended, and balls up his hands on his hips. Zayn feels a little sick, and not just because of the alcohol. No one their age should be this confident with these things. Zayn squints at him, tries to see Harry from a girl's point of view, what's so attractive to them about his weird mop of tight curls and frumpy face, but he's coming up short.

 

Maybe it's not about looks so much but personality. Harry's chill and confident. Zayn can see the appeal of confidence. It's why he's doing this with Harry and not - someone else.

 

"So... You gonna touch it or what?" Harry asks, sounding the tiniest bit annoyed now, the tiniest sliver of insecurity detectable in his voice.

 

"Yeah, yeah, gimme a moment." Zayn licks his lips, locks his eyes on the target, and wraps his hand, loosely, around the base of the shaft so he can pull it down from where it's huddled against Harry's stomach. He's not quite sure what he expected another dude's cock to feel like, but the experience is far from earth-shattering. It's really just a chunk of flesh, at the end of the day. Not that his own junk isn't, but without all the sensations related to touching himself it's more prominent, the fact that it's basically a meaty extension of the body.

 

He fits his lips around it, cautiously, praying it won't taste weird or gross. It doesn't, thankfully. The fruity smell of soap is prominent and even the sweaty under taste is tolerable. Salty. Once he gets used to it he gets braver, sucks it further in his mouth and starts rubbing his hand around the base, determinedly ignoring the soft mat of hair around it. His neck and jaw quickly begin to hurt so he leans forward on the bed to rest on his stomach and elbows, tugging the bottom part of his body on its side.

 

Harry starts thrusting gently in and out and then comes abruptly with a quiet groan, leaving Zayn blinking. One moment he's sucking on hard flesh, the next the sides of his mouth are dribbling with cum. He swallows most of it down on instinct and then starts gagging when the realisation hits him. "Fucking- I can't I believe I swallowed that shit, why didn't you warn me?" he hisses, furiously wiping his mouth with Harry's bed sheets as he scrambles back into a sitting position.

 

"Sorry, man," Harry chuckles, sagging against the headboard with a satiated grin. "Your face though! _Oh my god._ "

 

Zayn reaches for the object closest to him, which happens to a stuffed bunny no one's supposed to know Harry sleeps with, and chucks it at Harry's head. He wishes he'd timed how long Harry lasted. Can't have been more than two-three minutes. For someone so inexperienced it doesn't seem like an impressive amount of time.

 

***

 

Fulfilling the second part of the deal turns out to be slightly more complicated.

 

"Right. We should put a pillow under your hips," Harry starts solemnly.

 

Zayn shifts where's he's sat on the bed on his calves, alarmed. "Why?"

 

"Makes it more comfortable." Harry's annoyingly calm again, cross-legged, his palms on his knees like some of kind of underage hippie sex guru. 

 

"I don't need one," Zayn grunts. He drank a glass of water after blowing Harry but there's an unsettling after taste still lingering in his mouth and it's distracting him.

 

"No, seriously, it's so worth it. And makes it easier too." Harry squeezes the pillow in his lap with his spindly fingers. "Or, if you don't want to get horizontal, you could stay up on your hands and knees, which is honestly pretty uncomfortable for a first time, I can vouch for that. _Or_ you could ride my fingers."

 

"I'm not riding your fingers," Zayn says, mortified. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? 

 

"Okay," Harry says mildly. He's doing one of those dopey smiles of his that reminds Zayn of the very first day Harry went on a stroll about the bungalow starkers and Liam worriedly postulated he was in fact a secret pothead. "How d'you want to do this then?"

 

"I'll just-" Zayn thinks it over but there are really only bad and less bad options to choose from. "Just give me the pillow." At least on his front he doesn't have to look at Harry in the face.

 

It takes a bit of manoeuvring about but eventually Zayn is lying prone on the bed, naked, the pillow under his hip bones. It's not among the most dignified of positions, but it's not terrible either. He actually feels like taking a nap.

 

"Zayn, don't fall asleep," Harry admonishes him, his palm a warm weight on the back of Zayn's thigh. 

 

"I won't. Go ahead and do it. Who knows how much time we have left." Zayn munches on his lip when the weight on his leg is joined by another and the hands slide on his bum and spread the cheeks apart. It's so weird, Harry touching him like this, slow and careful. Sensual. They all touch each other all the time but it's usually under the guise of mucking about or fanservice or if it's a genuinely gentle moment, it's at least never loaded with anything more than friendship.

 

Harry has big hands. It takes them a massive dose of patience and a giant blob of lube (Zayn isn't even surprised when Harry procures the tube out of the messy folds of his bed) before Harry gets in both the index and middle finger with relative ease. It feels pretty good though, especially when Harry pushes them all the way in to the knuckles and curls them inwards. Zayn would love to just relax and give into the feeling but he's too worried. Every time Harry's fingers push in there's this weird point right upon entering, like they're catching on something. It doesn't hurt, but it can't be good either, can it? What if something in there, like, breaks? Arses aren't meant to be fucked, not really. Maybe there's a risk of ruining something in there, permanently. It all looks so easy and smooth in porn, but they're actors and it's all fake. Who even knows what kind of damage their bodies have been inflicted with. 

 

Zayn tries to take shallow breaths, not move around, trust his body to warn him if something goes wrong. He's hard now and that toe-curling feeling from Harry's fingers is getting a little unpleasant. Like too much.

 

"Can I put in a third finger?" Harry asks. He's out of breath and Zayn realises the rhythmic, fleshy hissing noise in the background must be Harry wanking. Horny bastard.

 

"It's not gonna fit."

 

"Really? I feel like there's definitely room for more."

 

"I don' wanna, like, stretch it out too much," Zayn says adamantly, letting his head fall limp on his arms. "Also, you're going too fast. 'm getting numb here." He spreads his legs a little and wedges a hand between his belly and the bed to wrap it around his cock. There's no room for movement, but just getting a grip is enough to give him relief. A careful squeeze around the head and he shudders helplessly, clenching almost violently around Harry's fingers.

 

"Sick. Wish I could put my cock in," Harry says wistfully. Zayn can actually feel the head of his prick poking his thigh now.

 

"Don't even think 'bout it, mate," he mutters distractedly, eyes fluttering close. He's so close he can almost- _Ah_. Harry's thumb presses into the space behind his balls and it's enough to take him over the edge. He sucks in an urgent, shaky breath and comes with an embarrassing whimper, thankfully mostly smothered by the mattress. Harry pulls his fingers away immediately and Zayn feels him moving away, giving him space and to finish himself, presumably. He cracks his eyes open to let them get used to the light again and takes deep breath after deep breath, descending from the high.

 

"How was it?" Harry asks. There's a layer of complacency, smugness, in the airy drawl of his words, like he thinks he's smashed it.

 

An irrepressible, happy little smirk stretches over Zayn's mouth. He waits for it to subside a little before stating over his shoulder, cool as a cucumber, "It was honestly pretty bollocks."

 

Harry leans forwards and blinks at him, affronted. "What, no way."

 

"Sorry, bro, just didn't do it for me," Zayn says in his thickest, most cartoonish Bradford accent, rolls over on his back, and crosses his arms behind his head. Fuck, he feels great. 

 

Harry pushes himself up on his knees and threads his fingers through his hair, repeatedly, like some miniature David Hasselhoff. "It's just because you've never done it before."

 

"Oh, so it's my fault you failed to rock my world?" 

 

Harry's entire face seems to crumble up inwards, like a raisin. "Looked like you were enjoying yourself quite a bit there, actually."

 

"It was alright," Zayn concedes quickly. He really shouldn't have called Harry 'rubbish'. He's not even sure why he said that. It was funny in his head. "It was just weird, I guess. Just getting fingered and not... You know, anything else." 

 

Harry brightens up immediately. "We can remedy that right now if you want. I mean, I got to come twice, didn't I?" He crawls over Zayn on his hands and knees, hair obscuring his face as he gazes down at him. "We could snog. We haven't even kissed once."

 

Zayn really doesn't want to snog Harry but he doesn't know how to say it. Luckily, a drunken Louis stops that disaster of a situation from happening by choosing that exact moment to stumble into the room and announce, in his typical trumpet fashion, that he has broken up with his girlfriend and needs his 'homies' to gather round for a group hug, pronto. Harry jumps out of the bed right away to try and close a rapidly recoiling Louis into a nude hug, which gives the grateful Zayn the needed distraction to pull on a pair of joggers and a t shirt. He leaves them to it, wrestling it out on the floor, and sneaks into his second shower of the night. They never discussed it but he's certain he can trust Harry not to tell Louis about what they got up to that night.

 

***

 

A week later the contestants go to an All Star Lanes downtown and Zayn flirts with a trio of girls on the lane next to them. They head out for burgers afterwards and later that night he sleeps with the one with his name scribbled all over her arms in black marker. Harry's the first person he tells about it and he knows Harry gets the unsaid message too from the way he hugs Zayn a little longer than necessary in congratulation. 

**Author's Note:**

> Lol, I don't think Zayn knows who Gertrude Stein is either, but a girl can dream.


End file.
